


the one in which the angel realizes something

by muzakchan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: And Romance, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, and hot cocoa, it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:29:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzakchan/pseuds/muzakchan
Summary: On the day in question, which was not the day after the world was supposed to end, but the day following that day, Aziraphale was faced with one of the largest assumptions he’d ever made, realizing that it was, in fact, incorrect. It shattered his world.





	the one in which the angel realizes something

On the day in question, which was not the day after the world was supposed to end, but the day _ following _ that day, Aziraphale was faced with one of the largest assumptions he’d ever made, realizing that it was, in fact, incorrect. It shattered his world. 

Aziraphale was, by all accounts, incredibly intelligent. Angels were generally intelligent (though some were far more intelligent than others), but Aziraphale was special. He could grasp many a new concepts, quite often at once, and still be able to pour you a cup of tea at the same time. 

A side effect of this incredible intelligence was his propensity to assume things, though he would be loathe to call it an _ assumption _ \- he’d been on Earth for nearly 6000 years and had existed in Heaven for much longer before that. He never _ assumed_, my dear; he simply had enough experience to reasonably deduce how a situation would play out. He would then ask you how many sugars you wanted in your tea. 

Crowley’s favorite invention, that he swore up and down he had no hand in, was the Internet. He loved it even more now that it lived in his pocket and was constantly accessible. So it would be, at this point, in Aziraphale’s tirade about his intelligence, that Crowley would pipe up with the Merriam-Webster definition of the word _ assume_. 

From there, it was a toss up as to whether either one of them would remember you’d been in the shop at all. 

Aziraphale didn’t sleep, but loved the feeling of lying in bed with a book. He’d passed the night by engrossed in _ The Divine Comedy_, looking for his favorite line. This was not the first time he’d read _ The Divine Comedy _, as is usually the case if someone has favorite lines in a book, but his love for the text was apparent in it’s well-worn yellowed pages and cover. 

If one were to get that close to Aziraphale’s copy of _ The Divine Comedy _ , several other things would become apparent: the binding was newer than the pages themselves, the manuscript was covered in what looked like editing marks, and, most importantly, it was written in Italian. An observant person would also note the signature on the first page, looping and confident: _ Dante Alighieri_.

Aziraphale came to the end of the last book and to his favorite line in the entire story:

> _But already my desire and my will _
> 
> _ were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, _
> 
> _ by the Love which moves the sun and the other stars. _

He sighed and closed the book, rubbing wearily at his eyes. It was early morning, if he was correct, judging by the sunlight streaming through the windows that had not been there when he'd started the book. The angel had not read the entire merely for pleasure; he’d undertaken that pilgrimage for a very important reason. 

In his 6000 years on Earth, Aziraphale had always felt a certain amount of love around him. Of course, God loved the humans; She had made them in her image, and loved them quite fiercely. She also loved the rest of the Earth, as she had spent an entire week putting it together, and all artists love their work. 

God loved Her angels too of course, but loved them the way one loves a distant family member. She sent the appropriate cards in the mail, but had misplaced their phone number years ago. 

But even a distant family member is still told when large events happen, and Aziraphale _ assumed _ that if stopping the Apocalypse wasn’t large enough news to let God know what had been happening, then spitting Hellfire at an Archangel (though, _ he _hadn’t actually done that) certainly counted. 

There had been a _ moment_, he recalled, when that feeling of love disappeared. But as he sat, sipping his cocoa in the early morning light, he realized something important: that feeling of love had not disappeared at any moment _ since _ the apocalypse had been averted; no, the only moment in which he’d stopped feeling that love was shortly after he’d been discorporated. 

The angel scrunched up his nose, both at the thought and at the empty cup he now held, and stood to return to the kitchen for more cocoa. Of course, he could snap his fingers and fill his cup once more, but he was of the opinion that hand-made cocoa always tasted just a little bit better than miracled cocoa. 

He continued to think as he padded across the floor, thoughts racing much faster than his feet. This was usually the case, as Aziraphale could think very, very quickly, but his thoughts were swirling faster than usual. They seemed to be coalescing around a center, but as he was stuck riding the waves of his thoughts, he could not yet see what the center of the whirlpool was. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he chided no one in particular. “I should have felt _ more _ love in Heaven than I did here on Earth. I was at the source.” 

He then thought back to the way he’d been yelled at for losing his body, and his scrambling desire to get back to Earth, to tell Crowley of the Antichrist’s location, to do something, _ anything _ to remedy his inconvenient discorporation. 

He’d run from Heaven then, back to Earth, and found Crowley. Was able to tell him just enough before they were separated again. 

Then he’d found Madame Tracy’s body, a surprisingly willing receptacle in his time of need, and they’d gone to Tadfield Airbase. He pondered while stirred the milk heating on the stove: he’d certainly been able to feel the love that usually surrounded him, but only because he knew where to look for it. 

At one point, while they’d been puttering along, 15 feet above the ground on the scooter and trying to ignore Shadwell’s swears, Madame Tracy had asked Aziraphale a question. 

_ What is that feeling? _

_ Oh! _ Aziraphale had thought, delighted at the confirmation he wasn’t making it all up. _ That’s the Love all angels feel! _

_ Oh? _ Madame Tracy’s voice sounded skeptical. 

_Yes! It’s a reassurance from God_ _that she’s with us at all times._

Shadwell muttered something unintelligible and gripped Madame Tracy’s waist a little harder. Aziraphale had then felt her heart skip a beat and her stomach turn over. 

_ What is _ that _ feeling? _ he thought back to her. 

_ That’s my love for Mr. Shadewell, I’m afraid_, she replied. Aziraphale could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. _ He’s a grouchy old man, but then, I need a bit of tempering sometimes_. 

_ Do you? _

_ My dear, everyone needs a little bit of tempering. Shadewell may not be everyone’s idea of a perfect man - well, he’s not even my idea of a perfect man - but he’s been my companion for far longer than anyone else has. I dare say that what once was a quiet comradery has become something more_. 

Aziraphale wanted to respond, but was immediately preoccupied with getting the three of them through the wall of fire that the M25 had become. 

It was only a little while later that Crowley had shown up, in style (as usual). 

_ Is that God? _ Madame Tracy had asked him. 

_ What? _ Aziraphale responded distractedly. _ No, that’s a demon! _ That’s _ Crowley! _

_ Ah, _ Madame Tracy said, far too knowingly for Aziraphale’s liking. _ Well, he is devilishly handsome_. 

When Crowley realized Aziraphale was there, and especially after Adam had given him his body back, the feeling of love returned, perhaps a bit stronger than it was before. 

Aziraphale’s brow was scrunched, partially from the intense focus it required to pour the hot milk into his cup, and partially due to his train of thought. 

He’d only felt the love, the ever present love he’d felt for the last 6000 years, wane when Crowley thought he was dead? 

_ Oh _ . He stopped stirring the cocoa powder into the milk. _ Oh my _. His hands were shaking; why were his hands shaking? 

As if moved by an unseen hand, Aziraphale found himself in front of the phone. The phone lifted off the receiver, and he dialed a number. It wasn’t until a voice answered on the other end that Aziraphale realized what he was doing. 

“Mmm hullo, angel,” Crowley drawled through the phone. Aziraphale swore he could hear the smile on Crowley’s lips. 

“Crowley? I need you to come to the shop immediately.” 

The smile dropped off of Crowley’s face. “Is everything alright, angel?” 

“Yes, it’s just…” Aziraphale clutched onto the receiver for dear life. “I’ve realized something very important; you need to come as quickly as you can.” 

“Keep your shirt on, angel,” Crowley said. Aziraphale blushed. Why did he blush? “I’ll be there in a mo.” The demon hung up, leaving Aziraphale alone. 

It’s a funny thing, coming to the realization you’ve been wrong this whole time. This realization, if made late enough in life, can have the unwanted effect of killing a person. Aziraphale had come to the understanding that what he _ thought _ he’d known for the last 6000 years - which is far longer than any human can live for - was incorrect and that he’d been overlooking the evidence right in front of his nose. 

The center of the whirlpool was within view. There was no escaping it. Nothing to do but welcome it with open arms.

Which is exactly what Aziraphale did when Crowley came sauntering into the bookshop approximately twenty minutes later. 

“Hi, Aziraphale,” he crooned, flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. Aziraphale had him wrapped up in a hug before he could ask: “What’s this all about?” Instead, he said “Ngk!” when Aziraphale squeezed him tightly. 

When Aziraphale let the demon go, he noticed there was a small flush in his companion’s cheeks. “Aziraphale,” Crowley took him by the shoulders and leaned in, inspecting him closely. “Have you been _ drinking_?” He leaned in even further and sniffed the air. 

Aziraphale gave a small gasp as he felt the Love around him increase. “I _ knew _ it!” he shouted triumphantly, startling Crowley. “No, my dear, I have not been drinking - I prefer to drink with company.” _ I suppose there’s no reason to be coy any longer _, he thought to himself. “I prefer to drink with you.”

The tips of Crowley’s ears went bright red and his eyebrows popped up around his sunglasses. He mumbled something Azirpahale did not understand, refused to elaborate, then continued to mumble his way to the kitchen to procure, at least for himself, a bottle of wine. 

When he returned, bottle nearly empty, the angel was standing in the foyer of the bookshop waiting for him. Crowley finished the bottle in one final gulp and wiped his lips when he was done. “Please, angel - what did you want to talk about?” 

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed once. Twice. Three times. His heart was racing; the sunlight streamed through the window behind Crowley, lighting up his red hair with all the power of the sun. The words from _ Paradiso _ tumbled through his head: _ something something my desire something something _ Love _ which moves the sun_. 

“You look like the sun,” Aziraphale said, smiling at him fondly. 

The remainder of Crowley’s face flushed, matching the blush that already had taken residence on his ears, and Aziraphale saw him blink a few times behind his glasses. When the demon rebooted, he spluttered: “You called me all the way here to, what, hug and compliment me?” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, my dear. Here, take a seat.” He reached out and took Crowley’s arm, guiding him gently to the sofa. 

“I thought,” he began as they walked, “that all this time, _ all this time_, God loved me!” He delivered Crowley to the couch, and smiled down at him. “And She does, I’m not saying she doesn’t, but!” He lifted a finger to accentuate his point. I think there is someone _ else _ loves me, and _ that’s _ what I’ve been feeling all this time, for the last 6000 years.” 

Crowley’s mouth was wide open. He snapped his fingers, refilling the wine bottle in his hand and began to drink from it. He didn’t stop until the bottle was empty once more. “Angel that’s - that’s the most _ ludicrous _thing I’ve ever -” 

“No, but - but!”

“Angel, the only person that’s been with you for the last 6000 years is _ me_,” Crowley continued incredulously, accidentally making Aziraphale’s point. “So _ you’re _ implying that _ I _ -”

“My dear, I’m not implying anything,” Aziraphale said, sitting down next to Crowley, legs touching. “I’m saying I know it for a fact.” 

The veneer dropped off of Crowley. Suddenly, he looked timid and afraid, all of his bravado gone. Aziraphale had figured it out and Crowley was _ terrified_.

“I -” Crowley tried, voice catching in his throat. “Angel, you _ have _to understand -” 

Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s leg, positive the gesture would give him a few seconds to say his piece. It did, as the demon stopped and stared incredulously at the angel’s hand. 

“My dear,” he said, much more gently than he had before. “I didn’t call you over here because I wanted to ‘read your receipts’, as the youth of today would say.”

“Angel, no, that’s not -”

“I called you here because that wasn’t the only thing I realized.” 

Crowley looked up at him. 

“We’ve lived separately, but together, for so long; I thought it was just the assignment, but it’s something more.” He rubbed Crowley’s knee affectionately. “The _ only _ time I stopped feeling the ever-present aura of love, _ your _ love, was when I was in Heaven, and I didn’t have time to think about it in the moment - all I could think about was getting back to you - but that’s been the only time we were apart in nearly 6000 years.” 

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, gingerly, not wanting to scare him, but to keep him close. 

“This whole time, I thought it was God’s love that kept me going, but it wasn’t. _ Your _ love has been the force that moved the sun and stars in my life for the last 6000 years. Without you, I would have nothing, I would _ be _ nothing.” 

Crowley looked up at the angel, completely dumbfounded. “Wh-hat are you saying, angel?” he whispered. 

“My dear, I am saying that I never want to be apart from you again.” Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. 

“I am saying, Crowley, that I know you love me.” He moved, crossing the distance between them in a moment and kissing Crowley’s cheek. 

“And _ I _ am _ saying _, Anthony J. Crowley,” he whispered, moving to hover near Crowley’s mouth. “That I love y -” 

Crowley beat him to the end of his sentence, cutting it off with a kiss. Aziraphale felt the room tremble with the enormity of love that was being expressed in a single kiss. His own knees went weak, and the angel toppled down into Crowley’s lap. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, pulling away, smiling at the demon. _His_ demon.

“Try again, then, angel.” 

“I love yo-” 

Crowley kissed him again. It was just as lovely, if not lovelier, Aziraphale thought to himself, to kiss while wrapped up in Crowley’s arms. It was like coming home after a long business trip to your own bed. Except this business trip had been nearly 6000 years long with no assurance that he’d ever be able to come home. But now he had, and he never wanted to leave. 

The sign in the window did not flip from CLOSED to OPEN for a week. It took that long for Aziraphale to get the full sentence out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just some cute, quick fluff because I cannot stop thinking of the different ways these two might possibly get together.


End file.
